


That F*cking Skirt

by awkward_ace



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, Gen, Humor, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Multi, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 11:12:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16366796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkward_ace/pseuds/awkward_ace
Summary: They've been close friends and neighbors for awhile now, but his feelings took a turn somewhere along the line. And that skirt she's wearing is incredibly distracting.





	1. Act 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pria has a favorite skirt and it is a skirt that has the magical power of making Cullen's brain turn right the hell off. This was originally only a small thing, but then it sort of...came alive. And then I wrote two other parts to follow it.
> 
> THIS BE A SMUTTY CHAPTER, MATEY, YE BEEN WARNED.

**It's a love-hate relationship**

 

_That fucking skirt._

It was a thing, he lamented, because every time she showed up in that fucking skirt, his brain shorted out and it was all but impossible to tear his eyes away from her ass. From the faint strip of skin that showed between the top of the skirt and the hem of her shirt. From the bright red, heart-shaped patch that adorned the left back pocket of it. That stupid heart had a little bumblebee in the center of it, complete with iridescent wings, and really, it was kind of cute. The denim hugged her ass, only _just_ covering it, and led his eyes down to her strong, shapely legs that went on for _miles_ , and really what he wouldn’t _give_ to have those legs wrapped around his waist (or even his shoulders, he wasn’t too picky).

And that was before he even got to the way the soft, lacey inserts on the side just looked _oh so pretty_ against her copper-brown, heavily tattooed thighs.

Cullen sighed quietly, a little wistfully, and shifted a bit uncomfortably, keenly aware of how constricting his jeans were starting to feel.

 _That fucking skirt_.

He had been perfectly…well, not _happy_ but existing contentedly enough before this woman and her _fucking skirt_ had hopped from her balcony right next door to his and lit his cigarette and that had been _months_ ago and now here he was, sitting in his own living room, watching her pad around his kitchen in that _fucking skirt_ , humming to herself and baking good-smelling things as if she owned the place.

Somewhere along the line, she had gone from best friend to his best friend that showed up with alarming frequency in his not-so-platonic dreams. That had been a surprise for him. Hello, usually quiet and not-at-all distracting sex-drive.

_That. Fucking. Skirt._

“Would you like some tea?” she asked, and he blinked, snapping out of his reverie and, reluctantly, pulling his eyes away from her hips and backside. “Uhm,” he replied, lamely, “Sure. Yes. Please.”

“Articulate,” she teased with a grin, “Don’t think too hard, you might get smoke coming out of your ears.”

“Oh, _ha ha_ , you are _hilarious_ , as always.”

Her nose wrinkled playfully as her grin widened and she blew him a kiss before turning to fill the kettle. He vaguely wished she would stop with the airy blowing of kisses and actually _kiss him_. She’d taken to wearing a pretty sort of smoky rose color lip-stick lately and he very much wanted to see what it looked like smudged up and to see if she tasted as good as she smelled.

_Rutherford, you are so fucked, and not in the good way._

If he had any sort of courage, he would ask her out. For real, for a _date_ , not just for the odd friendly dinner. He would get off his ass, go over there, and kiss her instead of pining silently and staring at her behind while wishing she’d kiss him. He’d ask her if maybe there might be something more between them and if she might like to see where that might lead them because sometimes, _sometimes_ he got the strangest sense that there might be when her eyes lingered a little too long on his or her fingertips brushed over his arm and shoulders gently. When her flirting seemed to shift from playful to a little more serious.

But he didn’t have that sort of courage, so here he was, being tormented by that _fucking skirt_ and wanting her in a painful, poignant way he hadn’t wanted anyone in a long, long time.

She poured the now hot water into two mugs and set them on a small tray along with a plate of still steaming scones, accompanied with clotted cream and bright red raspberries.

She had stocked his fridge with real butter that was molded into pretty little shapes, and armfuls of leafy greens and vibrantly colored vegetables. Spices he had only heard of now populated the rack in one cabinet, and the rest of his cabinets were stocked with homemade jams and preserves and pickled things. There was even a vase on his bar that was more-often-than-not filled with fresh flowers.

He’d put on about ten pounds, since meeting her, and that had thrilled his therapist and doctor to pieces when they’d learned of the dietary changes that he’d just sort of…stumbled into. He was almost back to the same condition as he’d been pre-lyrium fallout.

He tried to not take a deep, appreciative breath as she walked the tray from kitchen to living room, setting it on the coffee table. He failed, and breathed in rich cinnamon and flowery honey, twined intimately with the pine-needle-vanilla smell of her. A quiet sigh of pleasure escaped him.

“You are wonderful, Pria. You know that, right?” he said.

She flopped onto the couch by him, “I’m aware. But you can keep telling me that, I don’t mind hearing it.”

He laughed and accepted the mug of tea that was handed to him. It was strong and laden with honey, just the way he liked. “Not a bit of ego in you, is there?”

She sniffed haughtily, and nudged his shoulder gently with hers as she broke open a scone and slathered it with cream. “Not a bit,” she replied, licking a little off her fingertip.

Cullen watched her arrange raspberries just so on the pastry, admiring the shape of her nose, the taper of her pointed ears and how her reddish hair waved at her temples. This close, he could feel the warmth of her skin radiating into him, could make out the intricate, geometric pattern of the mandala tattoo that capped her shoulder. He liked the way it looked on her skin, and often found himself a little hypnotized with the pattern, falling into it as his eyes tracked the circle.

“Do you have dinner plans?” he asked. _Oh, sure, friendly invitation, no problem, but ask her out seriously and I lock up and blank out._

“Mm!” she hummed brightly, “I do, actually. An old friend is in town and we’re going to catch up tonight. I’m really looking forward to it, I haven’t seen him in a long time.”

“Oh.” _Fuck._ “Well, have fun, then. Who, uhm…who is it? No one I’ve met?”

He was fairly certain he’d met every one in her immediate social circle…somehow they’d ended up in his, too, and he still wasn’t quite sure how that had happened, particularly with Sera.

“You haven’t. His name is Solas, he’s been away at digs for a while.”

_Solas. Why does that sound familiar?_

“Digs?”

She nodded, picked up her tea to sip at, “He’s an archaeologist—studies ancient ruins. Specifically Elvhen, but really he’s happy with any. I have some of his current research that I’m reading over—those spiral bound things?”

_Oh. **That** Solas._

Solas the ex-boyfriend. Solas the genius. Solas the still-really-close. Solas, the person that Haldir had been snarling about not two days before, the person that Mahaal seemed to have genuine homicidal feelings towards. The person Sera called “the elfy arsehole”, and who the mention of forced a terrifyingly polite, flat smile onto Dorian’s face before the man changed the subject pointedly.

Solas who, with just the mention of his name, could make her eyes light up happily and a slight smile pull at her mouth.

Cullen focused on the surface of his tea and tried to tell himself that it wasn’t jealousy that was twisting his stomach.

“Articles, right?” he said instead.

“Right. Apparently it’s Varric and I who are his editing team. Sometimes I get them and there’s already notes scribbled in the margins, usually about how to make it more interesting.”

“And fictional?”

“And fictional,” she grinned, “Although he’s also very good at finding all the typos and little mistakes.”

“What do you do with them?”

“Stream line them. Solas can ah…get going on a tangent.”

He raised an eyebrow and she shrugged sheepishly. “I find them fascinating,” she admitted.

_I can never be that. I wish I could, I want to be that for you. I wish I could talk to you for hours on end about theoretical magic things and understand what was said._

“Don’t let him keep you out too late with his tangents,” he said with a faint smile that felt strained even as he put it on his face. “I’ll miss hearing your evening musical.”

The splash of pink that darkened Pria’s cheeks was adorable and it took everything in him not to lean in and kiss them. “Plants like being sung to, there’s _studies_ that back me up!”

“Sure, I believe you.”

“You don’t, I can hear it in your voice!”

“I do!”

“Cullen,” she pouted at him, “Don’t be an ass.”

“Perish the thought, my lady.”

An elbow dug gently into his side and he chuckled. “Really, though,” he murmured, “I will miss hearing your singing.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him and smiled playfully, “Why, Commander, has my siren’s song enchanted you? Are you at the mercy of my oh-so-feminine wiles?”

 _You have no idea._ “What happens if I say yes?”

“Hrm. Well, if you were on a boat, I’d say you’d be dashed against the rocks, but you’re not, thankfully. I’m not really sure what happens on land.”

He frowned thoughtfully and the part of his brain that was still latched firmly onto his literary fascination gleefully dove into the presented scenario. “…Maybe they lure people off bridges now? Or high ledges?”

“Ooh, urban sirens. I like it. And maybe if you’re in a forest, you just sort of…walk off a cliff.”

He snorted, “This is a little dark.”

Pria walked two fingers up his arm and gently poked his nose. “Dark, yes, but also a necessary discussion because as far as I know, there’s no stories about sirens outside the sea.”

“Tell Varric.”

“I just might,” she said, and kissed his cheek lightly before hopping to her feet to take her empty mug back to the kitchen for more tea.

 _That fucking skirt_ attracted his attention again as she walked, his eyes trained on that stupid heart-shaped patch and the damn bee. “Will I be meeting Solas, too? At another of your mad game-nights?” he asked.

She froze for a moment, going completely still in a way he had never seen before. That was interesting. Perhaps Haldir’s snarling was a little more than just _venting_ , as the elf had claimed it to be.

She turned slightly, biting at her lip, and his eyes tore from her backside to her face, a pang of wanting spiking through him as he imagined what it might be like to nibble that lip himself. “I don’t think it will be a game-night,” she said, “There’d be uhm…tension. But if you want to meet him, I could…I dunno, make the three of us lunch? Something like that?”

“Why would there be tension?”

Pria shook her head and went back to making her tea. “It’s just…old stuff. Drama. Don’t worry about it.”

A moment’s hesitation and then he got up and walked into the kitchen to lean against the cabinet by her. “Pria,” he said gently, “I’m not worried about ‘it’. I’m…I’m worried about you. Hal was here the other day going _off_ about someone named Solas being in town, and I assume it’s the same person.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed heavily, “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“Tell me?” he coaxed, “Your— _our_ friends don’t just turn hostile for kicks. Particularly Hal.”

“Hal and Mahaal are my cousins, of course they’re going to dislike my ex-boyfriend on principle.”

Cullen looked at her for a long moment, took in the slight clench of her jaw and the shuttered look in her eyes. “Okay,” he nodded, “Subject closed, got it. If you’re comfortable with it, I’d like to meet the person who sends you stacks of articles.”

The tension in her evaporated and she smiled warmly as she looked at him, “I’ll talk to him about it. Thank you, Cullen.”

He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck, pleased by how easily he was able to cheer her. “You know where I am if you ever decide you do want to talk about it. Or anything.”

“I know. Right on the other side of the ladder-bridge.”

“For the last time, it’s just to make sure you don’t accidentally fall and break your fool neck with your… _reckless_ balcony hopping!”

“But my balcony hopping makes you all grumpy and snarly and you’re kinda cute when you’re all cross with me!”

Heat rose up his neck and face and he scoffed. “ _Woman_ ,” he groused.

Pria only grinned in that impish way of hers, which made him scoff again, and edged over to wrap her arms around his neck and hug him tightly to her. “ _Man_ ,” she purred teasingly by his ear, and his breath came in sharply at the tingle of pleasure that ghosted down his neck and spine.

Her nails barely grazed his scalp as her hand lightly ran through his hair and he shuddered, his stomach clenching as her warm body pressed into his rather intimately from thigh to chest, pressing him back into the cabinets. It felt _good_ to have her so close to him, her arms around him and the pine-needle-vanilla smell of her wrapping around his senses and making everything except for her hazy.

“Pria,” he whispered shakily, biting back what he was sure would have been a whimper as he tried to tell his hands to _not_ fist into the fabric of her shirt. They didn’t listen.

_I want you. I **want** you. I want you so bad it hurts._

“Cullen?” she murmured, and one of her hands settled gently on his jaw, turning his face to her, “You alright?” Her thumb lightly brushed over the scar that cut through his lip, delicate and petal-soft, and he was lost. His hand tangled into her hair and he crushed her to him as he kissed her desperately, a faint moan catching in his throat.

_Yes. Yesyes **yes**._

A little gasp left her and she half-tensed against him.

_No. Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckno!_

He pulled back abruptly, jerking his hands from her as if he was burned, wide eyed and horrified with himself. “I’m sorry! I—Maker, Pria, I’m sorry,” he stammered, found himself a little breathless. _Idiot. Stupid, stupid, stupid! You can’t just grab a woman like that and kiss her you know better!_

He reached out to smooth her hair and flinched back at the last moment, then reached for her arm and flinched away from that. What had he done? Something so good, and all of it ruined in an impulsive moment.

_Stupid._

She blinked at him slowly, fingertips pressed to her mouth, “How…how long have you been wanting to do that?”

His face flushed with shame and he found he couldn’t quite look her in the eye, his hand reaching back to rub his neck awkwardly. “I…” he cleared his throat, “Longer…longer than I should probably admit to. I’m so sorry, Pria.”

Her hands settled at his waist and she stepped into him, pressed herself against him once more. “Apology accepted. Do that again.”

Cullen’s head snapped up so fast he felt a faint pop in his neck, was certain his eyes were going to jump out of his skull as he stared at her. “What?” he asked dumbly.

Pria walked two fingers up his side and chest, making him shiver and his breath come in sharply. “Kiss me,” she repeated slowly, now sketching over his lower lip with a fingertip, “Again.”

He wasn’t sure what sort of sound he made, but whatever it was made her smile _that damn smile_ and she leaned in and nipped ever-so-softly at his lip. He groaned quietly and fell into her, pressing his mouth to hers hungrily and sliding his hand up her spine as he felt her shiver and _kiss him back_.

_This. **Yes.** Yesyesyes._

Slender fingers tangling in his hair, curls wrapping around them and tugging faintly at his scalp, resulting in the most delicious sort of teasing tingles rippling through him. He was sighing and melting into her in a moment, knotting his hands into her shirt again and growling lowly in appreciation when her legs spread enough to let his thigh nestle between hers. He caught the barest moan from her, felt her teeth bite softly at his lip again and his mouth opened invitingly and _Maker_ , she was so _soft_ and she tasted like honey and tea and a little like lip-stick.

A sharp turn and he had her neatly pinned back against the cabinet, a hand tracking down to grab her hip tightly, tucking his fingers just behind the waistband of her skirt to run softly against warm skin. She shivered and arched slightly against him, a thrill running through him as she pulled him closer. “Cullen,” she murmured heatedly against his mouth, lips barely breaking from his. “Should’ve _said_ something, silly man…”

He laughed breathlessly, dipped his head in to work hotly along her jaw and neck, pressing open-mouth kisses against the tender skin there and sucking softly at odd points, relishing the salty-sweet flavor of sea-air and powdered sugar. A soft groan of pleasure left her and her head fell back, exposing the long column of her throat which he greedily attacked, tracing the tendon softly with a broad sweep of his tongue and peppering more kisses down towards her collar.

“ _Spirits_ ,” she gasped, and gasped again when he ground his thigh up against her, the hand in his hair yanking his head up in a smooth, forceful motion that had him seeing colorful stars at the toe-curling sting that rippled over his scalp and down his shoulders. “ _Tease_ ,” she hissed, and kissed him roughly, swallowing his surprised moan as her leg snaked over his hip and ground them together, his hardening erection rubbing almost uncomfortably against his jeans and her, making him shudder.

Her teeth tugged sharply at his lip, sucked playfully at it before letting it go with a faint sound and then he groaned as her mouth turned to his ear and neck, lavishing attention with sharp nips between careful, almost sweet kisses. His knees nearly buckled when she found a spot near his pulse that made everything in him light up as if one of her lightning bolts had struck him, teeth scraping before her lips sealed around it and _sucked_. _Hard._

“ _Sweet blessed Andraste_ ,” he swore breathlessly, head falling against her shoulder with a deep groan, hips rolling back against hers as she ground herself against his heated arousal, burning pleasure searing his nerves and blurring his thoughts.

Pria released his neck with a soft, wet smack, gently flicking the edge of her tongue over it before nipping at the sensitive place and his breath caught roughly. “ _Cullen_ ,” she purred airily, hands now gently combing through his curls, easing the sting of the earlier tug they’d been given. “Pria,” he replied huskily, and then his mouth found hers again, greedily, and his hands tugged at the hem of her skirt, pulling it up to slide reverently over her thighs, gloating quietly at the soft tremor that went through them at his touch.

She hummed quietly, licking a heated stripe over his teeth as she arched against him, and teasing, clever fingers darted under his shirt, flattening against his stomach. He drew in a ragged breath at the thrill that brought goose-bumps under her touch, moaned wantonly into her mouth as her fingertips edged under his waistband, sliding teasingly along it and back up towards his chest. _Lower._ He wanted her hands _lower_ , he wanted her legs tangled with his while he was buried inside her. He wanted to see her face as she came undone against him. A nail scratched tauntingly over a nipple and he made a strangled noise, a hand abruptly smacking against the cabinet near her head, body jerking into her.

“ _Now_ who’s teasing,” he panted accusingly, barely breaking from their kissing, shuddering as she bit at his lip again. “ _Maker_ , I can’t _think_ when you do that!”

“Then stop thinking,” Pria retorted, hands diving suddenly under his waistband again to grab his ass and _pull_ him against her. They both made a needy sound as his erection nestled between her thighs and ground against her. His head went light and dizzy all at once—he could feel the heat of her, even through his jeans and his stomach was heavy, tense and tingling from navel to groin and all along the inside of his thighs. “Are-are you sure?” he whispered, moaning roughly and meeting another roll of her hips, “I—I don’t have—a—ah! _Fuck_ , Pria!”

“ _Yes_ , Cullen, _fuck me_ ,” she purred against his mouth, “Right here, like this. _Please_.”

 _Maker, yes_.

They could figure out the consequences later.

He growled something, unintelligibly, and fell onto her, kissing her again ravenously as his hands pulled her skirt higher over her hips, darted under to pull aside her underwear with a faint ripping sound while her hands—regretfully—left his ass and jerked open the front of his jeans, pushing them down insistently. Their teeth clacked gracelessly together, his attention diverted with a thunderclap of pleasure as his straining cock pressed against the wet outside of her cunt, fingers locking onto her hips tightly, dragging her against him again.

“Shit, you’re _soaked_ ,” he muttered breathlessly, pressing his forehead against hers. Her teeth dug into his lip, _again_ , and tugged, “Your fault— _you_ did this to me.”

A quiet snort of laughter escaped him, a smile sneaking onto his face in answer to the playful one she tossed him and then her hand was tangling in his hair, pulling back into their kiss while the other tucked between them, gave him a few teasing strokes before guiding him into her.

Her head fell back with a low, deep moan, her back arching as he slid inside. His breath left him in a rush, nails digging into her skin as her heat enveloped him, wet and soft and _fuck he wasn’t going to last long._ “ _Sweet Maker_ ,” he panted against her neck, “ _Oh, you feel so good_ …”

“ _Spirits, Cullen, move!”_ she demanded, bucking against him urgently. Cullen made a ragged noise somewhere deep in his chest and, dragging one of her legs over his arm, thrust against her, hilting himself in one smooth motion. Her nails raked roughly over his lower back, a gasp escaping, breath hot against his neck, “ _Yes_.”

He growled at the sting, a thrill shooting up his back, and thrust against her again, finding a rough, rapid rhythm, her shoulders thudding back into the cabinet, the erotic sound of wet flesh meeting wet flesh mingling with their moans and gasps of pleasure in his ears. Her legs tightened around him, heels digging into his ass, urging him on, and he pressed himself flush against her, sinking his teeth into her neck as his thrusts turned to sharp, deep rolls of his hips, grinding her clit against the base of him. Her entire body shuddered against him and she moaned loudly, breathed his name as her hands tangled in his hair.

He was close—it had been a long while, and her tangled around him, her sounds, the smell of her skin, the heat of her surrounding his cock was quickly becoming more than he could bear, pleasure and friction coursing through his veins, curling in his belly and along his back, ratcheting closer and closer to his end. He grunted as her hips undulated under his, slid his hands to her ass to knead and pull them down into his, stilling them as his pace started to become more erratic. _So close. So close, please, please, let her come first, **please**!_

Her breath caught raggedly as he slowed and gave a powerful thrust of his hips, the slight yank at his hair wringing a pleased groan from him. “ _Oh,_ ” she whined, “ _There—please don’t stop—_ ” Cullen swallowed roughly, biting down on his lip, hoping the pain would distract him from the cutting edge of pleasure that was roaring through him, teetering on the brink of release. He slid his hand gently up her back, marveling at her smooth skin as he slid himself almost out and then thrust into her again. She cried out and he _snarled_ , lunging forward and pinning her back against the cabinets, lips finding hers possessively as he pounded into her over and over, felt her clenching and pulsing around him.

_She has to!_

He swallowed her ragged moan, slid a hand between them, growling out muffled praises into her mouth when he felt the wetness that coated them both, blindly seeking, stroking the outside of her until she suddenly gasped. Her nails dragged over his back and sank _in_ , leaving fire and pain-laced-pleasure in their wake. He groaned, fighting back his climax with every shred of will-power he could muster as he circled her clit. “ _Pria_ ,” he breathed against her mouth, eyes fluttering open and locking with hers, staring into stormy blue that was wild and heated. “Come for me, love.”

“ _Cullen_ ,” she whispered huskily. He breathed in sharply and gave another powerful thrust into her, pressed his thumb into her clit and her back suddenly arched, arms and legs yanking him into a sloppy, passionate kiss as she clamped tightly around him, moaning her orgasm into his mouth. With a strangled noise, a few more rolls of his hips, his tenuous hold was shattered and he came with a muffled roar, his whole body curving into hers.

His head floated amid the warmth that flooded him, tension bleeding out and leaving him leaning heavily against the cabinet and her, arms and legs trembling faintly. “ _Maker’s breath_ ,” he whispered hoarsely, burying his face into the crook of her neck; he could feel a faint tremor in her, too, and gently slid a hand up to rest on her back, rubbing slow circles over it. Pria mumbled her appreciation and nuzzled her cheek against his, arms wrapping around his shoulders tightly while her legs slowly slid from around him, his hips still nestled comfortably between her thighs.

They stood like that until their breathing slowed down and evened to a more usual rate, until his heart ceased its hammering in his chest. Cullen sighed quietly as her lips pressed under his ear. “Okay?” she whispered.

A stupid, giddy smile appeared on his face and he had no idea where it came from—he had just fucked his best friend against his kitchen cabinets, things were now probably going to get _complicated_ , there was no reason for him to be smiling like this, for such contentment to be bubbling in his chest. “Yeah,” he replied softly, “You?”

When she didn’t respond, he made himself straighten up a bit to look at her, smile dying and replaced with a concerned frown. The contentment began to curdle and turn sour. “Pria?”

Her lips were pursed thoughtfully, her hands absently running along his shoulders and upper arms, back up again, kneading at the muscle. “I think,” she finally said, “That I would like to move this to your bedroom.”

He blinked, uncomprehendingly. _What does that mean?_

“What?” he said.

She smiled— _that damn smile_ —and leaned in to rub her nose against his, “I have a few hours yet before I have to meet Solas. I would like to spend them with you—in your bedroom, if you’re alright with that.”

_Oh._

She wanted to…

_Oh!_

His felt his face flush a little, a tiny buzz of smug pride creeping up and curling his mouth into a smirk. She’d meet her ex with his kisses marking her skin and maybe with the smell of his sheets still clinging to her; it was quite possible he liked that thought more than was acceptable.

And he could take his time—he could pull off every stitch of clothing she wore and touch and kiss her from head to foot and back up again, run his hands over every plane and curve, trace every single tattoo she had with his fingertips. Give her his mouth, taste her, feel her pretty legs wrapped tight around his shoulders.

_We can figure out the consequences later._

“I’d like that,” he said softly.

Her smile widened and she kissed the corner of his mouth, over the scar, lingered for a moment, “Good.” Then she took his hands as she stepped to the side and tugged him along after her towards his room. His eyes automatically found the red-heart patch and that stupid bee on the back of her skirt and he grinned.

_That fucking skirt._

 


	2. Act 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The evening that follows an unexpected afternoon.

**Go be adults now**

 

Unable to resist any longer, Cullen shoved himself up from his relaxed sprawl on his bed and leaned over to press a kiss between Pria’s shoulder blades, sneaking a hand around her waist and up to gently cup her breast.

“Can’t I tempt you to stay a little longer?” he murmured, mouthing his way up towards her neck.

The last three hours had been… _glorious_ , in a word. His hair was a mess, his muscles were sore, some parts of him ached, his back was a muddle of scratches and he had hickeys dotting him from the neck down and he _never wanted it to end_.

She shivered as his stubble tickled against her skin, leaned back slightly into him with a smile, “I can’t. I have to go so I can change quick and meet Solas.”

“Who says you have to change?” he inquired innocently, “I _like_ that skirt.” His hand squeezed her breast faintly, the pad of his thumb rolling over her nipple before he let go to track it down her belly and tuck it between her legs. Under the mentioned skirt. He caught the faint catch in her breathing, smiled against her back before gently biting at the crook of her neck.

“I noticed,” she replied archly after a moment, “But I say I need to change.” A slight shift that let her half-turn, looking over her shoulder at him. Her hand slid over his, pressed it closer between her thighs for a teasing moment before gently pulling it away. He pouted, more on principle than anything, and kissed the curve of her shoulder.

“As the lady insists,” he agreed, and turned to slip out of bed. Or would have, if a hand on his chest hadn’t stopped him, a hand that traveled up to cup his cheek and turn his face to her. He shivered, unable to help himself, and leaned into the touch, closed his eyes and sighed into a soft kiss.

“Walk me to the window?” she asked when she pulled back, nuzzling her nose against his. He smiled, feeling that it was probably a rather idiotic smile, “Always.”

She grinned, kissed him lightly again and turned away to resume pulling her clothes back on. He did the same, slipping from the bed to first _find_ where she’d tossed his boxers and then snagging his jeans and shirt.

“Hm,” she said thoughtfully as he was fastening his waistband.

He glanced up, “What?”

“You ripped my underwear.”

He choked on nothing, coughed to clear his throat as his face burned red.

“Guess you have to keep them.”

“W-what!” he sputtered, suddenly dizzy and not at all sure he’d heard her correctly.

Pria turned to look at him once more, brows raised and a Cheshire Cat smile on her face. “Well, y’know,” she shrugged, torn scrap of lacey underwear held dangling from a fingertip. He watched, wide-eyed and dry-mouthed as she _slinked_ her way over to him and tucked the lacey scrap into his pocket. “You break it, you bought it.”

“ _Sweet blessed Andraste_ ,” he swore weakly. The things this woman did to him.

She tapped his nose, smiled brightly, “I like blue and green. But you can pick out whatever you like to replace it.”

“Re… _replace_ …?” he echoed dazedly, brain already leaping to the picture of her body wrapped in some filmy little bit of red lace. Or silk? Silk was good. He felt blood rushing, very quickly, from his head to his cock. “ _Me…_ b-buy…?”

“You,” she confirmed, sliding her hands over his stomach and around to squeeze his ass. She pulled him against her, bit softly at his lip and sucked it into her mouth. “Whatever you like, _Honey-tongue,_ ” she added, voice pitched to a velvet purr that shot down his spine.

Cullen whimpered, going bright red and melting against her helplessly as his breath caught up in his throat. _Honey-tongue_. Maker help him. He’d never heard anything so _erotic_ in his life and here she was, _purring_ it at him like _that_ while she nibbled at his lip (she fucking knew what that did, he had _told_ her just hours before!) and groped his ass, and he was a useless lump of putty in her hands.

“Pria,” he breathed, moaning softly as her hands slid up his back, nails teasingly running over scratches she’d left and lighting his nerves up with soft stinging and tingling thrills.

How. In the hell. Did she _._ Get him so riled up. So easily.

“Kiss me,” he pleaded quietly, “ _Please_.”

This wouldn’t do. At all. He was going to have to find a way to get her all hot and bothered without seemingly trying. Any good relationship was about compromise and balance, and if this continued—

Her fingers tangled through his hair again, her back arching to press her body against his tightly as she kissed him, running the edge of her tongue teasingly along his lip. He looped his arms around her tightly and held her close, going slowly boneless under her attention as she nipped and tasted and suckled.

He was a trembling, breathless mess— _again_ —by the time she pulled back, his lips kiss-swollen and tender. Her hands gently caressed his face as she moved away. It took several long moments for him to be able to open his eyes, found her smoothing her shirt down over her sides and stomach when he did.

_Holy fuck._

“Do you—” his voice cracked, broke, and he had to clear his throat and swallow. Even then, it was still rough, husky, “Do you have _any_ idea what you do to me?”

She picked up his t-shirt from where he’d laid it at the foot of the bed, shaking it out to rid it of any wrinkles before holding it out to him. “Are you objecting?” she asked, tilting her head curiously, one ear flicking to the side.

_From temptress to adorable. Rutherford, you have gone past trouble into **sunk**._

He smiled and took his shirt, pulled it back on before taking her hands and pressing his lips to her knuckles. “No. Not even in the slightest,” he replied. “I’ll walk with you to the window.”

*-*-*-*

His evening had taken a weird turn somewhere and he wasn’t quite sure when, exactly, that had happened.

After Pria had left, he’d gotten himself presentable looking again and had gone out to—much to his surprise and, oddly, delight— _buy her a pair of replacement underwear._

For the set he’d torn.

That was still in his pocket.

_Thought I’d taken that out…?_

Whoops.

Anyhow, the new set—wrapped neatly in pink tissue and placed in a tiny, pinker bag that was currently folded and tucked into his jacket—was a cheeky pair of ocean-blue lace with a little rhinestone starfish patterned on one hip. Cullen actually had no idea if Pria liked rhinestones, but he figured any dislike of them would be balanced against her liking of _blue_ and of things relating to _ocean._ There had been a red pair that he had eyed and debated about, because she _had_ said “whatever you like”, but _she_ had specified that she liked _blue_ and _green_. So the blue lacey thing it had been.

Maybe, if the opportunity presented itself, he could “accidentally” rip another pair. Then he’d have to buy her _another_ replacement and _then_ he could get the red pair.

Yes.

_Solid plan, that._

Cullen frowned and patted at his pockets, searching for his keys. He knew he had them. He just…couldn’t remember where he’d stashed them.

He’d barely made it out of the store and tucked the tiny bag away, out of sight, when Haldir had found him and dragged him along to the pub to catch the Denerim vs. Minrathous match and a “guys’ night”. He’d stopped counting pints after three, because, fuck it, what was a pint or five or ten with his friends?

It occurred to Cullen that he was a little drunk.

He snorted, amused as he continued to fish in his pockets for his keys. A long afternoon with Pria that had unexpectedly ended with sex that still sort of had his brain on the fritz to dinner and drinks with the mates.

_Pretty good fuckin’ day, Rutherford. Had **loads** worse._

Oh! Keys! He’d put them on his belt loop!

“Duh,” he muttered with a shake of his head, which made the pleasant swimming intensify for a moment. Once his vision steadied again, he unhooked his keys and went to the task of unlocking his door.

The lock had just clicked and his keys were pocketed when he heard happy, giddy humming and light footsteps trotting down the hall. He looked up and smiled as Pria arrived back at her door, heart fluttering in his chest. _Fuck, she’s gorgeous_.

A small part of him noted with a little regret that she’d traded _that fucking skirt_ for tailored black trousers, which still gave him a good view of her long legs and ass. The high heels didn’t hurt, either—he was completely unsurprised to see a grinning, glittering skull decorating the back of them.

_Hey, she does like rhinestones then! Damn, I’m good._

“Good night?” he asked, pleased that his speech was still rather clear, if maybe rough from smoke and happy shouting.

She looked over at him and her dreamy smile widened as she saw him. “Cullen!” she chirped, and then he had to turn and catch her as she bounded over and threw her arms around him, slamming him against his own front door as she kissed him. His breath let out in a deep, languid sigh, the hand that hadn’t caught him falling to her waist and tangling in her belt loops. She bit at his lip teasingly, giggled against his mouth at his playful growl, before her lips parted invitingly, an invitation he took eagerly, reaching out to taste and explore.

She hummed against him, tightened her arms around him and arched into him. He made a soft noise as he fumbled for the door latch, barely breaking away, tongue running along his lower lip to catch her lingering taste. “Mn…peppermint…?” he murmured. His hand found the knob and twisted, letting them stumble backwards into his flat.

“Mm-hm—schnapps,” she replied softly, and giggled again, “My great weakness!”

He laughed, shoving the door shut and letting himself fall back against it as their mouths met again. More kisses, softer and slower, teasing brushes and nips between airy laughter. Open, exploring hands that tucked under shirts and along hips. “Peppermint schnapps, hm?” he asked, playfully scraping his teeth over her jaw, just beside her chin, his fingertips gently sketching over her waist.

She squeaked, playfully batted his hand, “No tickling!”

_That was cute._

“Terribly sorry, m’lady.” He mouth found her neck, kissing and nibbling down it to the sound of more airy giggling from her. She pressed closer to him. “I can’t resist it,” she said and made a soft sound as her head tilted back faintly, “Sera knows it, too. She introduced us, and now the three of us are dangerous.”

He inhaled deeply, breathing her in and nuzzling her skin. Peppermint, smoke. Dusky roses. Pine-needle and vanilla. He slid a hand up her back. _Soft. Warm._ “Sera found you, then?”

“Mm—after dinner. Decided we had to get drinks a-a-and now here we are!” she leaned back, as much as he allowed, at any rate, holding her arms wide with a silly grin on her face. He chuckled and pulled her back into him, pivoting around to press her back against the door, resumed his leisurely exploration of her neck. She shivered and slid her fingers through his hair, pulled his head up for another kiss. He growled again as her teeth brushed his lip, “Imp.”

“Yes,” she agreed, smiling against his mouth. “Who found you?”

Her turn to explore. Her lips trailed from his down his chin and over his jaw. “Mm?” he hummed, letting his head tilt back.

She nipped lightly at his ear. “Who found you?” she repeated, “Y’smell like Varric’s pub.” Nuzzled his skin where jaw and ear met. “Smells good.”

The pub, unlike some others in the city, maintained a level of cleanliness that was somewhat surprising, given its owners fondness for grungy dives. Varric’s place served good food, better beer (and some shit beer, for ‘authenticity’), and had an ambient scent of spicy pipe tobacco and old books.

Cullen was glad to hear that he wasn’t the only one who thought it was a pleasant smell.

“Hal,” he said, and slid his hands down her ass to grip the back of her thighs and lift her up until her legs were around his waist. “Football match.”

Airy kiss. Lips tingling as they brushed, his thumbs rubbing absent circles against the inside of her thighs. “Who won?” she asked against his skin, nuzzling the hollow of his throat.

“Not Denerim,” he grumbled.

She laughed and squeezed her legs around him and even though his grumbling was more dramatic effect, being against her, in her embrace, _did_ make the loss better. He leaned in and kissed her again, bracing an arm against the door near her head. She slumped into his hold, draped her arms lazily over his shoulders.

“Can I stay tonight?” she murmured, eyes still closed as he pulled back. He hesitated and rested his forehead against hers, “‘S’that a good idea? We’re both a little drunk.”

An eye peeked open at him, peering at him through the dark. He blinked.

He’d never noticed how _blue_ they were in the dark. During the day, or in the light, there was a wash of purple to them, turning her iris more violet. But now, with no light but the small one over the stove…they were deep blue. Deep-sea-depths-blue. Still. Endless. Eerie.

A chasm just lurking and waiting for the unwary to fall into.

_My Blue-in-the-Dark._

“I’m not asking for sex,” she said, pulling him out of his musing. “Just want to be _here_. With _you._ ”

He smiled and tucked his arm under her hips as he stepped back from the door. “You could stay forever, if you wanted,” he replied softly, knew it was corny and starry-eyed and sticky-sweet the moment he said it. She laughed anyway and fluttered butterfly-soft kisses over his face as he walked towards his room.

“Such a romantic,” she teased.

“Tell no one.” His tone was mock-stern, playfully gruff and he laid her back on the bed, crawling up after her to follow her down, holding his weight up and off her on arms and knees. Her hands cradled his face, thumb brushing over his lips. “Our secret,” she nodded, “Please don’t stop.”

Her hair had fallen into her eyes and he gently brushed it aside, kissing her forehead. “For you, in my respect, are all the world,” he whispered, shifting slowly to settle against her as her hands tugged lightly at his waist, pulling him down against the soft plane of her body. “Then how can it be said I am alone when all the world is here to look on me?”

She sighed into him, arching and melting into his touch as his hands slid under her shirt once more, stroking over her skin. “Cullen,” she breathed quietly, warmly against his mouth, turning pliant and yielding under him as he kissed her.


	3. Act 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning that follows a tipsy evening. More smut ahead!

**Snuggly soft!**

 

This was unusual.

There was a body in bed with him. A warm body. Bit of a stick, really, but they were soft. Smelled good, too.

Cullen sighed contently and snuggled closer to the warm body, his arms tightening around them as he nuzzled his nose against the back of their neck. _Very good_. Sweet and green, a little like musk and his sheets.

Not often he woke up with another body in his bed. Practically never, really.

He ventured to crack an eye open and take a look at his companion. Tattooed feathers running over a shoulder. A rather stern looking octopus glaring at him from the curve of a waist.

Pria.

_Holy shit._

So yesterday had really happened. It hadn’t just been a _very good_ dream.

He smiled foolishly and nuzzled her neck again, pressing a lingering kiss to the crook of it as his hand stroked gently down her side, fingertips just grazing her skin as they meandered along a green ivy vine that snaked over her hip. Pria shivered in her sleep and arched a little, burrowed back against him. Her bare ass ground faintly against his groin and his breath blew out a little sharply.

_No. Behave, Rutherford, don’t disturb her._

His treacherous brain helpfully supplied, at that instant, that her ripped underwear was still in his jeans pocket. And that the pretty blue replacement pair was still wrapped neatly and nice-as-you-please in its bag in his jacket.

His hand twitched.

The power that scrap of lace had over him was utterly ridiculous and stupid, and he really should try to _let it go_. On the other hand, he still _very much_ wanted to see her in the red pair, at some point in the future.

The fact that she was _here_ , right now, in his bed made him rather hopeful that something for them in the future might not be wishful thinking.

She made a quiet noise in her sleep, rubbing back against him again as she wriggled and he couldn’t stop the quiet moan that slipped out of him. His cock, already half-hard, stirred and he pressed back against her, hand sliding delicately over her stomach and sternum. “Pria,” he whispered, nibbling at her neck, “You awake?”

_Please be awake. I want to love you again._

She mumbled something he couldn’t quite make out, turning slightly into his touch. His lips trailed over her jaw and to her ear, biting teasingly at the lobe and sucking briefly before continuing on to follow the slant of it. “Wake up, my Blue-in-the-Dark,” he purred quietly.

He slid his hand back down her chest and abdomen, trailed it over a thigh and inside to press against her cunt lightly. Smirked when he found dampness there. She moaned softly as he nipped the tip of her ear, “Having a good dream, love?”

“Nnh…Cullen…?” she breathed sleepily, stirring. She shivered as he ran a finger over the outside of her, tracing her entrance and cupping his palm over her. “I’m here,” he kissed under her ear, the corner of her jaw, “Sleep well?”

Her breath rushed out quietly as he put a little more pressure behind his touch, slowly rolling his fingers and then his palm against her. She rubbed the dust from her eyes and smiled, looked over her shoulder at him, “Yes. You? Headache at all?”

He rocked forward to press a soft kiss to her mouth, “Slept well. No ache—you’re alright?”

Another roll of his hand. She responded with a small circle of her hips back into him, her legs parting faintly. He made a slight noise and pressed against her, slowly grinding his hardening cock against the cleft of her ass as he began to slowly trace back and forth over her, circling her clit.

Pria only hummed quietly and shook her head, tilting it back to rest against his shoulder while she reached behind her to gently grab his hip, squeezing encouragingly. He bit at the exposed curve, scraping his teeth over her skin and leaving it flush. “Spread your legs,” he whispered huskily against the mark.

She complied, spreading her legs and hooking one back over his knee, nestling completely into the curve of his body and rolling her hips into his. He groaned quietly, and pressed two fingers inside of her, his thumb brushing over her clit as he pumped his hand against her. She moaned, dragged his free hand at her waist up to cup her breast.

She was slick, and pulsing faintly around his fingers. A growl rumbled through his chest, a burning wash of pleasure traveling up his spine and through his stomach as his cock rubbed against her. “You’re wet, already, love,” he purred into her ear, starting to roll and massage her breast in hand, pinching at the nipple until it pearled, “Good dream?”

She arched into his touch, tangling a hand in his hair as she turned her head to nip at his jaw. “Yes,” she murmured, breath warm as it fanned against his skin, “Dreamed of _you_.”

His breathing hitched, stomach doing a pleasant flip. _Oh, Maker_. “Dream of me often?”

“Yes. Not very many men who’ve done _this_ to me,” she purred heatedly, setting her hand over his and thrusting his fingers deeper inside her, humming a pleased sound.  “ _Cullen_.”

Her voice went straight down his back and to his groin and he groaned, pulling her into him to kiss her hungrily, arching his hips to let his cock rub against her as he pulled their hands free. She ground back against him, moaning low in her throat and opening her mouth to the questing swipe of his tongue.

He breathed his pleasure out sharply through his nose, hand falling to her thigh and kneading the muscle roughly as he rubbed and slid against her. “ _Maker_ ,” he shuddered, lips breaking from hers, heat swamping him and the smell of her, of _them_ , making his head swim. He thrust against her mindlessly when her hand found him, stroked over him as they rutted against one another, “Pria— _I want you_.”

She squeezed and he moaned, burying his face against her neck, hand dropping from her breast to finger her clit again, pulling her hips back into his. A ragged gasp answered him, a hand tangling in his hair as the other left him and latched onto his arm. “ _Take me_ ,” she panted breathlessly.

Cullen shivered, kissed her already sweat-damp skin airily as he took himself in hand, nudging himself teasingly over her clit, making her moan softly, and guiding his cock to her entrance and pushing inside, hilting himself in one slow, fluid thrust. Raw pleasure washed over him, the heat of her cunt making his vision go starry as he heard her moan again, loudly. “ _Fuck_ ,” he hissed, hands clenching at her hips, a ragged groan tearing out of him as she rolled down against him, clenched around him. “ _Sweetness,_ ” he whispered hotly, prayerfully. “ _Maker, you feel so fucking good._ ”

He began to slowly rock against her, muffling his sounds of pleasure against her neck as she rolled her hips back against his, her hands curling behind his neck and in his hair, tugging faintly. “ _Yes_ ,” she praised softly, shivering and groaning quietly.

They fucked slow and deep, neither willing for much distance to come between their bodies. He relished the torturous build, part of him screaming that they go faster, that he pound his cock into her until they both came screaming, but that would involve an _end_ and Cullen was in no hurry to find it when he was buried inside her, listening to her soft pants and moans, feeling her arch and writhe with him. Instead, he set his teeth into her shoulder, biting gently and sucking little love-bites all along her neck, tongue laving over them.

“Cullen,” she groaned, hand blindly seeking his, tangling their fingers together. He released a ragged sigh, squeezed her hand tightly, “Close?”

She gasped as he thrust up, once, biting her lip as a low whine left her. “I want— _uhn! Harder—”_ She wriggled against him, dragged a low sound out of him, and another of protest as she began to pull away.

“Pria,” he said, objecting to the loss of her, shivering at the cool feel of the air as he slid out of her, reached for her—and froze, eyes widening as she rolled onto her stomach, yanking his pillow under her hips. The heated look she gave him sent a shiver _screaming_ down his spine, and when she crooked a finger at him he was on her instantly, kissing her possessively, prizing her lips apart with his and tongue moving past to devour her greedily.

“Spread your legs,” he commanded, voice low and gravely, biting at her lip. She inhaled sharply, eyes widening fractionally before a playful grin danced across her face. “Yes, _ser_ ,” she simpered, arching her back down and playfully rolling her hips up into his as she complied. _Ser_ touched his brain and rammed home between his legs, stilling his breath in his throat as his cock _jerked_.

“ _Minx_ ,” he growled, running his hands admiringly over her back and shoulders, pushing her down against the mattress, continuing along her arms to lace his fingers through hers, pinning them down. “ _Wider,_ Sweetness.”

Her legs opened further and he locked them in placed with his knees, her ass grinding against him again. He nipped at her neck sharply, a soft reprimand, and then, bracing himself with his elbows, slammed himself home. She cried out, head falling forward onto her pinned hands as he pressed his forehead against the back of her neck, panting as she clenched around him. “Don’t stop,” she whispered faintly after a moment, pressing back into him as best as she was able, “Hard, Cullen.”

A low, feral sound clawed its way out of his throat and he arched himself away and slammed back into her again, pressing a searing, open-mouthed kiss to her neck as she moaned loudly, sucked hard at the same spot as he began to pound into her, forcing her down into the mattress as she gasped and mewled her pleasure, a soft “ _yes_ ” tripping between her noises and the sound of their skin meeting.

 _Mine._ A dark part of him thought as he let go of her neck with a wet smack, snarling as pleasure tightened in his belly. “ _Stay_ ,” he purred against her neck, letting go of her hands and was viciously pleased when she listened, fisting her fingers into the sheet beneath her while his slid back down her arms and back worshipfully to grab hold of her ass and hips, kneading at the flesh as he slowed his pace. She whimpered faintly in protest, shivered as he nuzzled her cheek, stubble rasping when his temple pressed against hers.

“ _Sweetness_ ,” he breathed, and slammed into her. She gasped and strained against him, pushing against the mattress and back into him.

“ _Sweetness_ ,” he said again, and slammed into her. She moaned loudly and he had to clap a hand over her wrists as they moved, locking them down. “ _Stay,”_ he hissed with another snap of his hips, “ _Put_.”

“ _Cullen_ ,” she pleaded.

“ _Come for me, baby,_ ” he rasped, slamming into her again, free hand tucking around her hip to tease her clit. Her hands struggled against his, curling into tight fists as she arched her back and moaned, a ragged sound that came from deep in her chest. It brought an answering one out of him and then she was contracting around him as he thrust into her again, a flick of this thumb against her clit and she was crying out as she came undone under him.

A shudder wracked his frame. “ _Yes,_ ” he murmured, the tension in his lower back and stomach building; he followed her a few moments later as it shattered, finding his end with a few more powerful rolls of his hips and praying her name with a ragged, animal groan, stars dancing behind his eyes.

They slumped into the mattress together, his hand loosening its tight grip on her wrists, his face buried against her neck as he panted. He could feel a faint shiver ripple through her, aftershocks of her climax still pulsing around him, sending quiet thrills through his pelvis and up his back. He pulled his hand from her clit, wrapped his arm around her waist tightly and pressed a warm, airy kiss to the crook of her neck.

She shivered again and hummed, ending in a breathy laugh. “ _Whoof,”_ she murmured playfully, “And where did _that_ come from, _Commander_?”

He chuckled, closing his eyes and basking in the afterglow, “Told you. You have no idea what you do to me. You’re alright?”

“I am _very alright_. That was a lovely way to wake up.”

 _Understatement of the year, that._ He snorted gracelessly and began to laugh, finally finding the energy to pull himself from her and roll to her side. Her bright laughter echoed to him, followed by relaxed contentment when the mirth died down. She pressed against his side, then, absently carding her fingers through the dusting of fine hair on his chest and drawing lazy patterns across his stomach. He closed his eyes, tilted his head to rest against hers, listening to her steadying breathing.

_That’s two days in a row now. What the fuck am I doing?_

Was this just something they did, now? Spontaneous sex when the mood struck, slow, body-tingling kisses and tender touches when they were high on endorphins and a little drunk? Pulling each other’s clothes off just to sleep naked beside one another?

What did that mean? There was no longer strictly platonic friendship between them. No unspoken, invisible boundary of _do not cross this line_.

That line was well crossed. And stamped out.

Shit.

Time for the consequences, it seemed.

“Pria,” he sighed, reluctantly, hand finding hers on his stomach and gently interlocking with it. She snuggled closer to him, draping a leg over his, “Hmm?”

“What are we doing?” His voice was soft, resigned, more than a little humorously bemused.

Pria shifted, tilting her head up to look at him, blinking her pretty eyes at him. They looked more violet now, in the sun, bright and alert and eternally-curious. A little easier not to fall into, but much more likely to give him grief and lead him into trouble in the form of cute puppy-dog expressions and mischievous twinkling.

_My lovely Blue-in-the-Dark._

“Resting…?” she ventured, “I’ll make us breakfast in a bit, I just wanted to lounge around, first.”

He wondered if she’d put her clothes back on when she did get up, or if she’d steal one of his shirts. He hated it when people borrowed his clothes, it drove him mad. Would it drive him mad, still, if she was the one wearing them?

“No, I mean…” he hesitated, biting the inside of his lip. _Well, here we go, then, probably wrecking this spectacularly._ “I mean what…what are _we_ doing? This? Us? Now that we’ve…”

“Does anything have to change?”

_Oh._

There it was. He was wondering when the pain would find him. When the bitter wash of disappointment would rise up like bile in his throat, coat his mouth with ash and turn his stomach into lead. The lightness in his chest vanished and his heart sank miserably.

Of course. Just as he’d found something, felt _desire_ for someone…if that wasn’t just the way.

He swallowed dryly, “I…I suppose not. I just thought—I’ve never…done this. Slept with someone I wasn’t…uhm…”

“You’ve never slept with someone outside of a romantic relationship?”

He flushed a little and shook his head.

“Really?”

“…Why does everyone always sound so _surprised_ when they find that out about me?”

She grinned at him and motioned over him from head-to-toe, “Have you looked at yourself in a mirror? Spirits help us all when we’re old, you’re going to be one of those men who ages into a stone-cold _fox_. I bet you go silver at the temples, first.”

He rolled his eyes, “Don’t start.”

“Too late, already imagining it.” She turned on her side and sat up, crossing her arms over his chest and resting her chin on them, “But really, why not? You’re beautiful, and sweet, and caring and you could get anyone you wanted.”

A grimace pulled over his face and he shifted a little, uncomfortable with where this could go but unwilling to disturb her. “Maybe. But I don’t… _want_. I mean I…I can see...why some people might enjoy that but I…I don’t…”

How do you tell someone that sex just wasn’t something you have _interest_ in? That his younger explorations had been horrendously awkward and terrifying, because _no, there’s no one I think of ‘like that’_ and _why don’t I feel like that? Am I broken?_ That any urges he had was more about the physical release and sensation itself, and never _about_ anyone in particular?

That he hadn’t understood what _desire_ meant until he’d been comfortably ensconced with his first serious partner, a slightly older man he’d met when stationed fresh out of boot camp.

Her ears suddenly perked up in a way that told him she’d just had a moment of understanding. “Oh!” she said, raising her head slightly, “ _Paldearelan!_ ”

Cullen blinked and relied completely on that to tell her that he had no idea what she had said.

“It means—well, there’s no _exact_ translation from Elvhen but it basically means someone who needs love, or emotion, for sex,” she explained, “I’m not sure what the human word equivalent is, but it’s the word Mahaal uses for himself.” 

He stared, lips parting faintly in shock. Somewhere in him, a bell rang in recognition and relief, warm and torrential, like sinking into a hot bath on a cold day, flooded him. _That. Yes…that—that’s it._

There was a word for it. For him. A word to describe what he had trouble saying, what he’d had trouble telling his partners in the past. It wasn’t that he _didn’t_ find them attractive, that he didn’t want them, they were _beautiful_ , he _wanted_ to be around them, he wanted this thing that was growing between them, it’s just that he…didn’t… _want_ them like that. Not at first. The _want_ had come later. Sometimes it had been too late.

Sometimes he had been desperate and afraid that they would leave and would fall into bed anyway. Afterwards he’d feel…empty. Things had never worked for long after those times.

“Oh,” she murmured, straightening further and setting a hand gently against his cheek, “Oh, _shit_. Cullen did…did you _not_ …?”

“It’s not just _me_ ,” he whispered, somewhat brokenly, relief making him sag back against the mattress, “ _Maker,_ it’s _not just me_.”

“What the _fuck_ , shem sex education is _hideously lacking_ ,” she said flatly, irritated. Her hand smoothed his hair as he dragged his over his face, “It isn’t just you, and you’re definitely not broken. If you need to, you could talk to Mahaal.”

Sure. And while he was at it, he might as well poke a very cross bear with a sharp stick.

He peered at her through his fingers, “Are you _trying_ to get me killed? Can you imagine that conversation? ‘Hello, Mahaal, I’ve spent the better part of the last twenty-four hours in various states of undress and engaged intimately with your cousin, can you please tell me about the word you use to describe your need for emotion before you can have sex with somebody’.”

He could just see the eye twitch now. The eye twitch and a murderous glare from the albino. He’d probably be stabbed with whatever the nearest convenient instrument was, no matter how dull and not-meant-for-stabbing it was.

Pria snickered and he glowered. “ _Please_ ask that exactly and make sure to film it, his face would be _priceless_ ,” she cackled.

“Thanks,” he drawled, “As if he didn’t despise me enough.”

“He does not. He’s actually rather fond of you.”

“Could have bloody well fooled me.”

“Trust me.”

“You have to either pay the hospital bill or stich the wound closed, then.”

She rolled her eyes and gently tousled his hair, “ _Felasil shem_.”

“…Did you just call me an ‘idiot human’?”

“Yes.”

“Only Hal calls me that.”

A teasing eyebrow was quirked at him, _that damn smile_ crossing her face, “Maybe to your face.”

It was Cullen’s turn to roll his eyes and he sat up, sighing heavily and rubbing a hand over his mouth and jaw—he needed to shave, soon. He’d let his beard grow in a day or two longer than he normally did and it was beginning to itch.

“I’ll make us some breakfast,” Pria said and leaned in to kiss his cheek before shimmying to the edge of the bed.

He licked his lips, swallowed around the knot that formed in his throat. “You—we…we never…figured out what this was,” he reminded her hesitantly, “Is this…was it a one-time thing or…?”

He hoped it wouldn’t be. Not now, not when he had just found this new way of describing what it was he felt, not when he had just held her so close and kissed her and learned her scent and the taste of her skin. Not now that he’d really seen the way her eyes turned endless-deep blue in the dark.

She turned back around, one foot on the floor, and cocked her head slightly, “Is that what you want it to be?”

_No. I want you. I want last night and this morning to be every night and morning until you don’t want me anymore._

A sharp breath.

_Maker, I don’t even know for certain if you want me like that._

He shook his head, “No.”

She turned again until she was facing him once more and crawled over to sit beside him. “Then what is it you do want?” she asked, “If this has changed things, what would you like to see happen?”

Impulsive had worked out well yesterday. _What the hell, why not, this is a SNAFU anyway, let’s see what happens._

“I want…” he murmured, “To take you to dinner.”

He got a _very odd_ look and he smiled faintly.

“Not as a friend,” he clarified, “A date. Because sometimes I feel like there’s _something_ here and I…if I’m not wrong about that, then I want to see if maybe that could go somewhere. With you.”

Her mouth opened slightly into a silent ‘oh’ and she straightened a little, drumming her fingers on her knee. He waited. “I see,” she said finally.

_Fuck._

His chest hollowed out and disappointment came clawing back. If he was lucky, they could continue on being friends. He’d find a way to get past this, patch himself up and move on.

“How long have you been feeling that way?”

His brow furrowed until he saw the faintest playful look in her eyes.

_This is familiar—oh. Oh! Alright, you squirrely she-elf. I’ll bite._

He let himself grin at her, crooked and teasing, “Longer than I should probably admit to.”

“You should have said something sooner, you silly man.”

“Have dinner with me.”

“Tch!” she clucked her tongue at him and gently tapped his nose, “We haven’t even had breakfast yet.”

_That’s not a no._

He caught her hand and kissed her knuckles before tugging her closer to him, “Have dinner with me, _please_?”

She pursed her lips thoughtfully and made a show of tapping her chin, “Mmm. I dunno. See, I was being called some pretty things earlier and now I’m not and I rather miss that treatment.”

 _Pampered princess,_ Dorian had teasingly accused her, once. She had scoffed, _Please, I am a **queen** , if not a bloody **empress** , and I will not accept lesser treatment!_

He laughed quietly as his face flushed a delicate pink, leaning in to the soft peck she put to his mouth. “Have dinner with me, please, _Sweetness_ ,” he tried again, coiling his arms around her waist and hugging her to him tightly.

“Tonight?”

“If you like, yes. Tonight.”

“I’d like that.”

He smiled widely, bubbling, thrilling happiness expanding in his chest and through his arms and legs, leaving him tingling from head to toe as he nuzzled his cheek against hers. “Tonight it is, then.”

“Good.”

She pecked him lightly on the lips again and wriggled out of his embrace, paying no mind to the faint pout he tossed at her as she padded over to his closet and fished out a faded band t-shirt.

Cullen made a slight noise, unsure if it was irritation he was feeling or not, “Pria…”

“Hmm?” she turned as she pulled it on, smoothed it over her backside and hip. “Oh! Should I leave these particular ones alone?”

He stared. Gawked, rather, lips parted, eyes trained on the curve of her shoulder where the neck of the t-shirt rested, almost exposing it. They were of a similar height but he was rather broader and the shirt enveloped her, hanging down in an alluringly lazy sort of way that barely managed to cover her ass.

Instead of irritation, it was more of an appeased sort of hunger. _His_ shirt on _her_ body, hickeys _he’d_ left on her neck and thighs exposed. It was a view he suddenly didn’t mind and he wondered what his problem in the past had been.

“No,” he replied a bit dazedly, “No, it’s fine—whichever you’d like.”

A cheerful smile and she trotted towards the door. It dawned on him she was wearing nothing _but_ his shirt and while that roused his desire all over again, he found he didn’t want someone showing up unexpectedly and finding her in such attire.

He wanted _that_ particular view all to himself.

“Pria,” he said, stopping her just at the door. He rubbed his neck, smiled bashfully, “I um…there’s something for you. In my jacket. The inside pocket.”

How the _hell_ did one present something like _underwear_ to their…well, to anyone, for that matter?

Her ears perked, curiosity lighting her face and she turned and walked back to where he’d tossed the thing over the chair in the corner, sitting down in it as she searched. An eyebrow shot up when she pulled out the pink packet.

It… _was_ a rather _iconic_ bag.

“Did you…?” she said, slowly turning to look at him.

He felt his face heat, “You _said_ —”

“I didn’t think you would!” she laughed, a bit more gleefully than he was comfortable with. That level of glee was something he usually only heard from Haldir, particularly when the elf had found something to tease him mercilessly about.

“ _Maker’s breath_ ,” he muttered, dragging his hands over his face. Now that he wasn’t drunk on her or alcohol, it was rather more obvious that _buying her underwear_ was something that was definitely _closer_ than their current relationship warranted. It was something that he, had they done things in a less bumbling way, might do further in the future. Maybe.

_Rutherford, you are a roaring idiot and a certified ass._

“I’m sorry,” well, fuck, he couldn’t even look at her, and that made his embarrassment even worse. Buy a lady underwear _then_ take her dinner, yes, that was a lovely way of doing things. _Creep._ “I’ll return them. And uhm…we can maybe pretend this never happened. Ever.”

“You can pry these from my cold, dead hands,” she retorted, and he groaned and buried his face in his hands as he heard bag and paper rustling.

_Kill me now. Just strike me down now._

He heard her quiet footsteps as she came over to stand beside the bed. “Thoughts?” she asked, and he slowly looked up, face and ears still burning, eyes finding the rhinestone starfish. Blue really was lovely on her, particularly next to the greens and vibrant colors of the tattoos decorating her thighs and hips. The way the lace cupped against her ass wasn’t anything to sneer at, either.

“I think you’re the loveliest person I’ve ever seen,” he replied honestly. “And I can’t believe you’re giving an _idiot_ like me the time of day.”

She dropped the hem of his shirt as she laughed and slid into his lap. “You listened. I’m not going to get upset over that—and I can’t say I mind getting pretty underwear, either, even if I was just teasing you.”

He groaned again and hid his face in her shoulder. “I’m never going to live this down.”

“Would it make it better if I bought you some boxers?”

“ _Not really_.”

She snorted and kissed the top of his head, “We _did_ have sex. It’s not like it was just a spur of the moment decision on your part based on nothing.”

“ _What kind of creep buys someone they just had sex with underwear?!”_

“…Well when you put it _that_ way, a super-creep. But you hadn’t just met me, and you were listening to what I said, so I say you _aren’t a creep_.”

He wondered if maybe he could spontaneously develop the ability to turn invisible. Or to combust from either sheer force of will or embarrassment. Her hand patted his head as he considered the possibility.

“How long are you planning on being mortified, because I’m getting hungry,” she said.

“My flat, I’ll be as mortified as I want for as long as I damn well please,” he shot back.

“Mm. Can you let me make breakfast while you do that, then?”

“No.”

“Fereldan sensibility,” she sighed in amused exasperation, “Whatever can be done to assuage it, once it is offended?”

“Now _hang on_ ,” he protested, looking up at her, “There are things that just _shouldn’t_ —”

He was cut off mid-protest by her lips meeting his, her hands tangling into his already-tangled hair. He thought about protesting _that_ , that shutting him up by kissing him was entirely unnecessary, but he dismissed it after a moment in favor of closing his eyes and leaning into it, moving his hands to cup her neck and face. There were much worse ways of being shut up, and besides, when it came to her, a kiss was a kiss and he wasn’t about to turn one down. He made a soft sound as she bit gently at his lip, meeting a soft brush of her tongue with his before she pulled away.

“Breakfast?” she chirped brightly.

“My sensibility is still offended,” he murmured back, unable to hide a playful smile.

“Oh! _Well,_ then!”

His smile widened and he let himself fall back onto the mattress as she kissed him again, pulling her with him, her laugh muffled. The next few minutes passed in quiet sighs and stroking hands, finally ending when his made their way to her ass and squeezed playfully. Alright, so maybe he’d been a bit of an idiot and a bit of a creep, but he did rather like the way the lace felt over her warm skin. She broke away with a slight sound, shivered as he nipped at her neck, “Don’t start, ser, I mean it, I’m hungry.”

“I am doing nothing to stop you, m’lady.”

“Says the man who has his paws on my behind.” She kissed the tip of his nose, “You can feel me up more, later. Let me up.”

He sighed regretfully and released her, letting his arms drop to his sides. _Hate to see you go, love to watch you leave._

“Thank you,” she said, and kissed him once more before clambering back to her feet. “Tea?”

Funny how things circled around—she’d asked the same thing just yesterday. _Was it really just yesterday? Have things shifted that much?_ “Please,” he replied, leaning up on an elbow, “I’ll be out in a minute.”

She smiled back at him as she opened his bedroom door, “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

He blinked and then grinned. “Good,” he said softly, and watched her trot out of the room, humming.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So. Confession time.
> 
> My "canon-Cullen" is a demi-sexual, bi-romantic Cullen. Straight-Cullen just didn't fit for me.
> 
> If this isn't your thing, that's cool! But there isn't much out there for non-ace-spec, so, I wanted to try and do something with that. It's a little clunky yet but it's a start and someday I will have it polished and pretty and yes.

**Author's Note:**

> So. This started out as half an idea that came to roaring life as I wrote and now it's this. It was most insistent.


End file.
